


Equals C-Squared

by watanuki_sama



Series: Pythagorean [3]
Category: Common Law (TV)
Genre: Introspection, Jealousy Issues, Other, Panic Attack, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, Sex-No Explicit Descriptions, m/m/f, pre-divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: Sometimes it feels like there are three people in this relationship anymore, not two.





	Equals C-Squared

**Author's Note:**

> The last of the trilogy! None of this would have been possible without the post on tumblr by **allthatisbizarre/autisticwesmitchell** that prompted this all, so thank you darling! This one is for you!
> 
> Also posted on FF.net under the penname 'EFAW' on 09.15.16.

_“It’s complicated.”_   
_—Facebook Relationship Status_

\---

“We need to talk,” Wes says, and Alex’s smile slips off her face and her stomach sinks through the floor. This is it, then, this is what she’s been afraid of since she opened her eyes and realized exactly how far apart they’d grown. She hesitates to blame his police work—it’s good for him, brought him out of his shell after Anthony, but she can help thinking that if he’d only stayed a lawyer, everything would have been fine.

But he didn’t, and now he’s saying those dreaded four words, and Alex knows, she just _knows_ that she’s going to have to say goodbye to everything they’ve built together, everything she loves, and her throat is already tight at the thought.

She’s worked so hard to keep them together, she doesn’t want to lose everything now.

She sits down with her hands clasped in her lap, and she listens as he starts talking.

It’s not what she’s expecting. He tells her about kissing Travis—honestly, this isn’t the first time she’s heard a variation of this story, usually brought to her by Travis’s colorful retelling at the dinner table. But it’s more than a kiss, she realizes as Wes struggles to explain (he never did like putting feelings to words). Wes is distracted at work—distracted by _Travis_ —says he’s annoyed by Travis’s cologne and noticing how attractive his partner is, and Wes may not recognize the signs of attraction but Alex certainly does.

Her husband is attracted to his partner.

Alex’s hands shake, imperceptibly, in her lap.

Wes stutters to a halt. Alex doesn’t know if it’s because he’s run out of things to say, of if he’s just daunted by her silence. Wes has two methods of dealing with problems: ignore it until it goes away, or ignore it until it blows up in his face. 

(If he’s telling her, that means ignoring it didn’t work, which means…

Her hands shake a little more, and she’s not sure if it’s anger or fear curdling her stomach.)

She doesn’t say anything right away. Can’t. She’s afraid that if she opens her mouth, she’ll say exactly what’s on her mind, and what she’s thinking is…awful, terrible, _cruel_. In the heat of the moment, her mind is roiling, and she doesn’t want to let any of it out.

Her silence is making him uneasy; he shifts in his seat and looks about three seconds from bolting outside and digging in the yard a few hours. Slowly, she takes a breath, tries to calm herself. It doesn’t help, much, but now when she opens her mouth she can at least speak civilly.

“Do you love him?” she asks, and watches him start.

Watches him _hesitate_ , and that tells her all she needs to know. 

(It feels a little like she’s just been stabbed.)

He shakes his head. “That’s not—”

“Wes.” Her voice comes out sharp, sharper than she intends, but she doesn’t want to hear prevarication about how he does love Travis, but not like _that_. “Do you _love him?_ ”

There’s the minutest of hesitations before he admits, “I don’t know.”

Maybe he doesn’t. Alex has had enough time to realize that Wes and his emotions are a…complicated matter. But over the years, Alex has learned to read her husband, can tell he’s not lying right now—not that he realizes, anyway.

Her eyes prickle with tears she won’t let fall. She takes another breath and lifts her chin, bracing herself for the next question. “Do you still love me?” 

If he says no, she’ll walk away, swallow her pride and make a graceful exit.

Genuine shock crosses his face, makes his mouth drop open. “Of _course_ I do! How could you—Alex.” He leans across the space between them, wraps his hands around hers, and he must be able to feel the way she’s trembling now, but he doesn’t comment. “Alex, Travis isn’t—I love you. Of course I do.”

Her lip wobbles, and the tears do their very best to fall. She blinks, hard; he rushes around the table to gather her up in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispers into her hair. And then, even softer, “I’m sorry.”

Alex closes her eyes, and the tears slip free.

\---

(This is how she fears she’s going to lose him.)

\---

Wes doesn’t realize he’s in love with Travis, but he still loves her.

Maybe she hasn’t lost him yet.

Maybe she still has a chance.

\---

She thought he was gay, at first.

They met in law school, partnered together for a mock trial. She hadn’t had high hopes. Ever since puberty, she’d dealt with wandering eyes and groping hands from the men around her. Even the polite ones had a tendency to let their gaze linger when they thought she wasn’t looking. She’d expected more of the same from Wesley Mitchell when they were partnered.

And yet…

Honestly, it was like Wes didn’t even realize she was female. He was totally professional and down-to-business, with notecards and color-coded outlines, and he always met her eyes when he looked at her. He kept his hands to himself, and he didn’t seem like he was trying to get in her good graces just so he could get close to her. 

It was like he wasn’t interested at all.

So maybe girls didn’t do it for him. Which was totally fine, Alex liked to think of herself as the progressive sort, and it was kind of a relief to focus on their project. But after a while, she noticed that he didn’t look at any of the guys, either, not even some of the really hot ones that walked by their study table sometimes.

Maybe he simply wasn’t interested? Maybe neither girls _nor_ boys did it for him. Maybe Wes just wasn’t interested in anyone.

Okay, Alex thought. That’s different. And she filed it away and didn’t think about it again, because it wasn’t any of her business, and also she really wanted an A on this project.

\---

At least twice a week, Travis follows Wes home like a large brown puppy and has dinner with them. Wes complains and grumbles, but he always makes enough food for three. Alex enjoys these evenings, bright hours full of laughter and conversation. There have been many a night when they’ve stayed up long past midnight, words flowing as easily as wine, so entertaining she hardly notices the passage of time.

Tonight, she only pays half of her attention to the conversation at hand; mostly, she watches the interaction between Wes and Travis. For the most part, it seems like everything is completely normal.

But there are moments…

Every so often, Wes’s gaze will linger on Travis’s mouth, his hands, the curve of his neck. Alex understands what Wes meant when he said he was getting _distracted_ by Travis. Then there are the tiny hesitations when Wes hands Travis food, less than half a second before Wes passes the serving dish, careful not to let their fingers touch. 

Tiny, tiny things, hardly noticeable. 

She doesn’t notice any difference in Travis’s interactions with Wes, which surprises her a little bit. Travis is such a people person, he has this incredible way of looking at people and reading them before they ever say a word. If she can pick up on Wes’s little hesitations, she would have thought Travis noticed a long time ago. But Travis doesn’t act like anything has changed.

Maybe Travis has noticed, and is simply being polite by not mentioning it. Or maybe he hasn’t—maybe he’s just not looking at Wes like that, so he hasn’t spotted anything out of the ordinary at all.

If she wasn’t looking so closely, she’d think everything is fine.

\---

She and Wes were friends long before Wes took any notice of her. From that mock trial, they began hanging out at the coffee shop and the library, doing their homework together. They bonded over the courses they shared and compared notes on classes and professors. They had study nights before tests and watched movies on the weekend, late into the night, to celebrate getting their homework done for the week. 

She’d never had a male friend like this, who took no notice of the fact that she was a girl and just treated her like _Alex_. It was…refreshing. 

All of her friends teased her about her new boyfriend, but Alex would always shake her head and say _No, no, it’s not like that, he’s not interested_. And that was fine.

And then he was. Alex isn’t sure what changed, couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things shifted between them. It was like sensing the change in the air between summer and fall—a subtle thing that happened slowly, then all at once. One day he was simply Wes, her best friend who happened to be a guy, and the next he was _Wes, a guy_ who happened to be her best friend.

For the first time, over a year since meeting him, she got the sense that maybe he _was_ interested. And Alex…well, sometimes when her friends were teasing her about Wes being her boyfriend, she thought that wouldn’t be such a bad thing at all. Wes was _great_ , serious and solid on the surface, but sweet and kind of dorky underneath, and she thought that dating him wouldn’t be so bad at all.

But he wasn’t interested.

Until he was.

Alex had never been one to shy away from something. So she took a breath, gathered her nerve, and asked him out.

He said yes. That was the start of everything.

\---

Honestly, as far as she can tell, Travis hasn’t noticed Wes’s attentions at _all_. And Wes, well, for the most part Wes doesn’t seem any different, though occasionally he’ll dart her quick, worried looks when he thinks she’s not looking, like he’s waiting for her to explode.

She won’t (probably). She has no reason to. Because no matter what Wes is feeling, he’s not acting on it, and he still loves her. So it’s fine.

“How are things going with Travis?” she can’t help asking, probing, as casually as possible.

Wes clears his throat, ducks his head, and doesn’t meet her eye. “Everything’s fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs, studying him. He doesn’t lift his head.

_Fine_. Right.

\---

She hated Travis, at first, long before she ever met him. She’s not perfect—she gets frustrated, and angry, and _jealous_ , so jealous sometimes, when Wes doesn’t notice how many people think he’s charming and handsome, and the only consolation is that he _doesn’t notice_ , he only has eyes for her.

But Travis, oh, she hated Travis from that first case, from the moment Wes came home with a bounce in his step and went on and on, “Travis said _this_ ,” and “Travis has a theory about _that_ ,” and she told herself he was just excited because someone finally believed his theory about the missing working girls, and he didn’t have to sink into himself because he couldn’t do anything. 

But she burned inside, with an envy at the mysterious _Travis_ who could bring a light to her husband, something she’d tried and failed at for so long. 

(Everything was different after Anthony Padua, and try as she might, she simply wasn’t enough. She always hoped she could find the secret, what would bring that spark back to her husband’s eyes again. But before she could, suddenly there was _Travis_ , and she loathed him for it.)

She saw Travis from afar for the first time, at the commendation after they caught the Gentleman Caller, and there was a petty satisfaction when she thought, _This is it, they’re done working together now._

But then they were partnered together, and Wes came home grumbling about Travis’s messy eating habits or the way he kept putting his foot on the dash of Wes’s car. Underneath all that, though, there was respect and admiration, buried under layers of bitching but _there_.

And the jealousy burned. Her husband was changing, slowly but surely, shifting into a person just a little different from the one she’d married, and _Travis_ was the one changing Wes, wonderful amazing _Travis_ , and Alex hated him.

Hated him, because she didn’t see how she had a chance. They spent eight hours a day or more together, and sometimes it felt like Wes was just getting further and further away.

The first time Travis came to their house, Alex shook his hand and prepared to hate him forever. And then he flirted with her, charmed her, made her laugh, and even though she told herself she wouldn’t like him, she could feel herself thawing.

After just one night, she could easily understand why Wes was changing because of Travis.

\---

Travis is good for Wes. Try as she might, she can’t deny _that_. After Anthony, things were so rocky, and Alex tried to help, but she just…wasn’t enough. Or maybe she was too much, she doesn’t know anymore.

Travis helped. What they have, it’s good, vital, _essential_. Wes may not be the same person she married, but she likes the person he’s become, even if Travis is the one who implemented those changes.

Still, sometimes it feels like there are three people in this relationship anymore, not two.

\---

She hits Google. What to do when your husband is in love with another man, and other related searches. She finds some crap, some solid advice, the usual stuff that comes up on any search engine.

And then she clinks one link, and what she finds…

Well. That was something she hadn’t expected at all.

She stays up late reading.

\---

_Polyamory._

The first thing that comes to mind…well, honestly, the only thing that comes to mind are TV renditions of polygamists, which are usually creepy cultists living off in the mountains or the desert. But this, this is something different, beautifully-woven tales of romance and relationships and love, and every story is just like a hundred movies she’s seen. The only difference is the number of people involved.

She exhales slowly, leans back into the chair and stares blankly at the computer without seeing it.

Polyamory. 

_Sometimes it feels like there are three people in this relationship anymore, not two._

Could it be so simple?

\---

More importantly, could it _work?_

\---

It won’t be easy. Wes is wonderful, but he can be a bit constrained by what he perceives as _right_ , and this will take a bit of convincing. Still, he’s already attracted to Travis; if she plays her cards right, she thinks she can get him to at least consider it, rather than rejecting it outright. Travis…Alex isn’t sure Travis has _ever_ had a steady relationship, but she’s heard enough tales of his sexual exploits (via Wes’s annoyed grouching) that the idea of three people probably wouldn’t turn him off.

As for Alex…

Well.

In all honesty, there are some days she still gets jealous of Travis, even after all these years. Not the white-hot burning from the beginning, but a slow, dull ache in her gut, whispering of all the ways she’s losing her husband to his partner.

Could she do it? Could she be in a relationship with three people, watch Travis and Wes together and not burn from the inside out?

She tips her head back with a groan. “I don’t know,” she admits, wishing there was an easy answer on written the ceiling.

But no magic words appear. The only one who can tell her what to do is herself.

Crap.

\---

(The thing is, she can’t take Travis away from Wes. Not now, not anymore. Maybe in the beginning, before their relationship became so intertwined, before Wes came to rely on Travis as a partner and a teammate and a friend, maybe she could have wedged herself between them. Maybe.

But not now.)

Every so often, through bribery, coercion, and trickery, Wes wrangles Travis and drags him to the house for yardwork. Every so often, despite knowing it’s coming, despite grumbling and swearing he will _never_ ever _ever_ do this again, Travis comes over and helps.

They’re on their knees in the grass, side-by-side, carefully turning the soil with spades, and Alex can hear Travis disparaging Wes’s genealogy from here. It makes her smile behind her book. Her job is to sit on the porch, supervising, and to bring out snacks and drinks at properly regulated times—but not too often, Alex, because then Travis will take too many breaks and we’ll _never_ get any work done, you know how he is.

(The thing is, Alex likes Travis, she genuinely likes him. He’s a wonderful person, funny and witty and, beneath all that slick charm, surprisingly vulnerable. He doesn’t let it show often, and never to anyone he doesn’t trust.

Sometimes he shows that quiet, vulnerable side to Alex.

They have a good relationship. They talk on the phone a lot, and most of the texts she sends are to him. She’s shared things with him, things she hasn’t shared with anyone else, and she’s fairly certain he’s done the same. He told her the story of how he got his name; she told him the story of how she lost her virginity, and how she cried afterwards.

What she and Travis has is different than what Wes and Travis have, but no less meaningful for it.)

Across the yard, Travis says something, too low for her to hear. Wes stops digging, stares at his partner, then reaches out and shoves him. Travis, never one to back down, shoves Wes right back, and Alex gives them about three seconds before she stands and calls, “Hey, guys!”

They both start, whirl around to stare at her, and Travis guiltily drops a clump of dirt which he had no doubt been planning to lob at Wes’s head. _This_ is why she has to sit on the porch supervising.

Alex puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes towards the sky. “Seriously?” she asks plaintively, and when they duck their heads sheepishly, she bites back a grin.

(The thing is, if she asked him to, Wes would cut ties with Travis, would break his own heart to make her happy. He’s still learning, in so many ways, how to accept happiness for himself, how to open up to other people and let other people take care of him.

That was what was so impressive—and so frustrating—about Travis. Right from the start Wes trusted him. Not with everything, not even Alex is trusted with _everything_ , but with enough. Wes opened his heart to Travis long before he gave it to him.

Wes has two very important people in his life, people he loves, but Alex is still the most important. For now. If she asked him to leave, while she’s still his most important, then he would. He’d be miserable and broken, but he would, because he’s still working out how to prioritize himself above others.

If she asked him to, he would leave Travis, and she’d have him all to herself. She’s not sure how much longer that will be true.)

The timer on the table goes off, and Alex stands. Wes and Travis are bickering again; they don’t even glance her way. Rolling her eyes, she heads inside, pushing her sunglasses onto her forehead and blinking to adjust. After sitting in the sun for half the morning, the inside of the house is downright _gloomy_.

She blinks a few times, clears her eyes, and heads to the fridge. She ponders the choices, then quickly makes up a cheese and cracker platter, with some cut veggies on the side. Add to that the pitcher of strawberry lemonade Wes made this morning and three glasses, and she’s good to go. She pulls her sunglasses back down, grips the edges of the tray, and steps outside.

She stops by the table and stares. Wes and Travis have abandoned the gardening completely, actually, physically tussling in the grass. Alex can’t even begin to guess about what. Their arguments range anywhere from ‘Look at this stain on my jacket I think it’s your fault’ to ‘I can’t believe you didn’t believe my theory on that case four years ago’.

“Amazing,” Alex sighs, shaking her head. “These two are grown men. Detectives, even.” She sets the tray down, grabs a piece of celery, and leans against the rail to watch. “Absolutely amazing.”

(The thing is, Wes needs Travis, needs him in a way he never needed Alex. And Travis, Alex thinks, needs Wes just as much—though Travis is so much less obvious about it. They temper each other, bring out the best in each other. 

They also bring out the worst in each other. They know the places that will hurt the most, know how to push each other’s buttons. They know how to cut each other without ever drawing blood.

They’re like celestial bodies, constantly orbiting, coming close enough to collide, to tear chunks out of each other’s skin before swinging apart once more—but never so far they fall out of alignment.

What is she, then, she wonders. How does she fit into their dance?)

Travis ends up on top, sitting astride Wes’s legs, pinning his arms to the ground. They’re about the same height, but Travis has a bit more bulk, and Wes glares at his partner at the loss, cheeks flushed and huffing a little. Travis smirks down at Wes, his own chest heaving.

They both jump when Alex applauds, so caught up in the moment, in each other, they obviously forgot she was even here. Seeing his audience, Travis beams at her and raises his arms above his head, letting out a hoot of victory.

Wes takes the opening as his chance to flip them over, sitting across Travis’s stomach and crowing triumphantly, and Alex is laughing so hard she has to sit down.

(The thing is, some days she still hates Travis a little, still feels jealous of the relationship he has with Wes. But she loves Travis, too, in her own way, knows how good he is for Wes, and it can’t all be about Wes, but it certainly can’t be all about her, either. She could easily make it about her, and then Wes would never pay any attention to himself again, and she can’t have that.

They need Travis, the both of them. There’s something about him that brings them together, that binds all three of them inextricably together. And even if it didn’t, even if she and Travis were nothing more than casual acquaintances, their only connection Wes, the fact of the matter is that she _can’t_ separate them. Not now. Not when they mean so much to each other.)

Wes and Travis trudge over, grabbing for snacks and glasses of lemonade. “Hard at work?” she teases, and Wes mutters something under his breath. Travis grins wide and plops down, draping his dirty boots across her lap. Alex yelps, pushes his feet off, and he throws his head back and laughs, as bright and vibrant and impossible to ignore as the LA sun high above them.

Across the table, one side of Wes’s mouth curls up. Alex leans back in her seat, a similar grin on her lips, and when they catch each other’s eyes over the tabletop, their smiles just grow.

(The thing is, she long ago resigned herself to sharing Wes with Travis.

The question is—can she stop being resigned to sharing?

Can she _embrace_ it?)

\---

What she needs, she realizes, what they _all_ need, is some sort of…some sort of _test_. A way to test the boundaries of their relationship, to see if something like polyamory even _could_ work for them. But how? Wes will be skittish about a three-way relationship in the first place, Travis just doesn’t _do_ relationships, and she’s not certain she’s at the point where she even truly _wants_ something like this. So how…?

She lets her mind roam, playing with and rejecting various ideas. Then she thinks about earlier today, the two of them rolling around in the grass, gloating victoriously on top of one another, and she sits straight up with a little exclamation.

Wes glances over, one eyebrow going up, and she waves a hand, her mind spinning.

Now, _that’s_ certainly an idea, isn’t it?

\---

This could work. This could definitely work. She’s pretty sure Travis will say yes, and _she’s_ totally fine with it, so Wes is going to be the tough one to convince.

But she’s pretty sure she can get Wes on board, too.

\---

“I’ve been thinking,” she says as she enters the kitchen, heading for the fridge. “About Travis.”

Wes carefully folds his omelet and says, “Uh-huh,” in that measured little way he uses when he’s tensing for a bad situation.

Alex pours herself a glass of orange juice and says casually, “We should have sex with him.”

There’s an amusing clatter of falling utensils. Alex turns, glass in hand, and Wes is gaping comically at her. She beams back at him. “Think of it like sex therapy.”

“If any therapist suggested _that_ , I’d question their credibility.”

“Your eggs are burning, dear,” she says sweetly, and goes to set the table while he scrambles to salvage his eggs.

She doesn’t say anything else, knows better than to push—pushing just makes Wes more resistant. She merely waits, eats her breakfast and watches Wes mull the idea over in his head. The fact that he hasn’t instantly rejected it outright…she considers that a good sign.

Halfway through his breakfast, he sets his fork down and frowns at her. “What do you _mean_ , have sex with him?”

She smiles blandly, like this is any other conversation they’ve had. “Exactly like I said. We invite Travis to join us.”

His brow furrows. “In bed?”

And she knows he’s just clarifying to wrap his brain around the matter, but she can’t help teasing him a little. “Or on the couch. Wherever.” The look he gives her is so scandalized she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Yes, Wes, in bed. It’s a king-size, we’ll all fit.”

“That’s not—” He frowns a little more, picks up his fork and starts poking at his food again. “What’s in it for us?”

Alex takes a quick sip of her juice to hide her triumph. He’s actually considering it. A very good sign indeed. “I think it could do us some good,” she tells him. “All the websites say adding some excitement into your sex life can help the marriage.”

He frowns, this time for an entirely different reason. “We’re fine.”

They are not fine. She knows it, and she’s pretty sure Wes does too. But Wes is always so very, very good at denying ugly truths to himself, at pretending things are fine even when they’re not. She gives him a flat look; he ducks his head and starts mincing his omelet.

After a heartbeat, she says, “Besides, it might help at work. If you get it out of your system, maybe you won’t get so distracted.”

His frown tightens, eyes narrowing, and he looks sharply at her. “What’s in it for you?”

She merely gives him a small, enigmatic smile and takes another sip of her juice. She’s not even going to begin delving into the depths of her feelings right now, murky and confused as they are. She wouldn’t even know where to start. Instead she asks, “So what do you say?” and waits.

After mangling his omelet as much as he can, Wes picks up his fork, though he doesn’t start eating, just stares pensively at his plate. “Sex,” he says slowly, like he’s trying the word on for size. “As in…”

“As in sex,” she says patiently, and proceeds to describe a few things she found online during a quick google search. It makes him blush—but, she notes, he doesn’t look entirely put off by what she’s describing.

He looks at his plate again, poking his food once more. “What if he says no?”

Alex grins, because that’s basically a ‘yes’ and that’s better than she’d hoped for after only one conversation on the subject. She hooks their ankles under the table, projecting as much confidence as she can muster. “Trust me. He won’t say no.”

\---

It’s _Travis_. She’s not saying he’s a slut or anything, but if there’s an option for free, easy sex with someone he likes? Why would he possibly turn that down?

\---

They talk about how to approach Travis, and Wes seems content to let her take the lead, which…is nothing less than she expected, actually. Denial and avoidance, those are things Wes is very good at, and sex is a subject he’s not entirely comfortable with (she’s never asked; it’s never been relevant).

So they make a plan, and they set a date, and as Friday nears, Alex tries to decide if the fluttering in her stomach is anticipation or just nerves.

Thursday night, as they’re lying in bed, neither of them asleep in the slightest, Wes asks, “Are you sure about this?” This isn’t the first time he’s asked this, and it probably won’t be the last. He has a habit of doing that, fretting and worrying things to the point of wearing it out. 

Alex sighs softly, runs her fingers up and down the arm around her waist. “I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I wasn’t.”

“But you don’t…” He pauses, buries his nose in the hair at her temple. “You don’t love Travis,” he finishes in a mumble, barely audible.

She does love Travis. But she’s not _in_ love with Travis. There’s a semantic difference there that she doesn’t want to really get into right now.

More interesting is his wording, _You_ don’t love Travis, implying he does, implying he _knows_ he does, even though he couldn’t say it when she asked him before.

She waits for the jealousy to burn, but all she feels are the butterflies in her stomach.

She sighs again, turning in the circle of his arms so they’re face to face. “No,” she says honestly, truthfully, because it’s not fair to lie about something like this, and the semantic difference _is_ important, in this context, this moment. She cups his cheek, smiling softly. “I don’t love him. But I like him a lot. And I love _you_ , honey.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to—”

She shushes him gently, a finger pressed against his lips. And then she gives him the absolute, unvarnished truth, the entire reason she even started considering this in the first place. “We’re not… There’s something missing, Wes. Between us. And I think Travis can help. It’ll all be fine.”

He doesn’t say anything. She can see the protest on his face, but the lie, that they’re fine, there’s nothing wrong, doesn’t make it past his lips. She smiles, traces his cheek, following the curve of his frown. “Are _you_ okay with this? Don’t make this just about me. We don’t have to do this if you aren’t certain.”

Because Wes has a tendency to bury his hurt and pretend it’s not even there. If he has any problems with this at _all_ , even a single reservation, then it’s not worth it. If all three of them aren’t on the same page, with the sex if not the polyamory part of it all, then this isn’t okay and it’s not even worth trying.

“We don’t have to do this,” she says again.

She can feel his smile under her fingertips, pressing a little kiss against her palm. “I’m okay.”

She studies him, looking for a sign that he’s just trying to placate her, but there’s nothing on his face, in his eyes. He’s not lying. She can’t see why he would lie, about something like this.

Alex nods. “Okay.” 

\---

Travis doesn’t say no.

\---

There is a moment, sitting in the living room, right after Alex proposes this arrangement, where Travis just sits there silently, face blank. It’s a heavy silence, filling the room with tension, and the moment stretches on and on and Alex wonders if she’s made a horrible miscalculation. At her side, Wes shifts, shoulders tightening, and she can almost predict the second he’s going to snap.

Wes tenses a little more and turns to her, right on cue. “I _told_ you this was a stupid idea.”

Alex puts her hand on his arm, trying to transmit as much confidence and reassurance as she can through the touch. This will be fine. Everything will be fine.

“Okay.” Travis sits back with a frown, but he doesn’t look disgusted or particularly upset. Mostly he just seems confused. “Go through this one more time for me.”

Wes doesn’t say anything. Alex wasn’t really expecting him to. This is…not his comfort zone. Besides, Alex proposed this in the first place—she can be the one to lay it all out.

She takes a breath. “We’ve realized that there is something… _missing_ in our relationship, and we’re afraid if we keep going as we are, we’ll just…fall apart. And we don’t want that.”

(No, she doesn’t want that at all. If there’s even a _chance_ to keep things together, she’ll fight tooth and nail for it. She won’t give up until she knows it’s hopeless.)

“So you thought of me.” Travis’s frown only grows as he drums his fingers. “Because…I’m promiscuous?”

Before Alex can say anything, Wes’s head shoots up, and he feels tense as a bowstring under her hand, thrumming with tension. “We didn’t say that. No one said that!”

On the bright side, he’s rejoined the conversation. That’s encouraging.

“We thought of you,” Alex explains, “because you’re our _friend_ , and we like you. We _care_ about you. So we’d like your help.”

_Also, my husband is in love with you but doesn’t realize it yet, and I’m trying to save our marriage the only way I can think of. And I think we can give you something, too, something you may not have ever thought about needing before. I don’t know if it will work, but we’re all floundering if we don’t so I have to try._

She hopes she managed to keep that off her face.

Wes coughs, shifts (fidgets, really, except Wes maintains that he never fidgets). “You don’t have to, of course,” he says, and Alex can read the underlying message. _If you say no, we can pretend this never happened._ “This isn’t—you don’t have to.”

Alex breathes in, slow and deep, trying and failing not to tense. She’s nervous too, even if this was her idea. _Because_ this was her idea. If this doesn’t work… “Will you do it?”

Another moment passes, heavy with tension and anticipation.

Travis says yes.

\---

They go upstairs. There’s no point in delaying things—they’ve all agreed, and doing it now will keep the anxiety and nerves from building. Not that she doesn’t feel nervous—her stomach is fluttering, and deep breaths don’t seem to make them go away.

“This is like a test drive!” Travis says halfway up the stairs, which makes Wes sputter incoherently.

Alex can feel a blush spread across her cheeks. Well, he’s not _wrong_ , but…the wording leaves a lot to be desired. They’re not trying to buy a car. “More like a compatibility test, really,” she offers, because that sounds a lot better and is also a bit more accurate. It _is_ a compatibility test, trying to figure out if the three of them, with all their personalities and issues, and work together as a cohesive relationship. Sex is just one part of that.

Behind her, Wes sputters some more.

She leads the way to the bedroom, because Wes is hanging back and while Travis has been over often enough to know where the master bedroom is, it doesn’t seem right to let him take the lead when this is _her_ idea (so much more her idea than Wes’s, even if Wes did agree).

And then they’re in the bedroom and this is it, there’s one last chance to turn around now, to back out and say she doesn’t want this. She’s tempted—she really is. For about half a second.

Then she looks around, at Travis standing uncertainly in the center of the room, waiting for a cue, at Wes lurking in the doorway, nervous and unsure. 

She doesn’t want to lose Wes. She can see the writing on the wall, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, and they _will_ fall apart if they keep going the way they are. Alex will fight to keep that from happening, but Wes refuses to admit anything is wrong, and the longer he does, the harder it’s going to be. Someday she’s going to have to make that call, because Wes won’t, and she desperately doesn’t want them to get to that point.

And Travis, her husband’s partner, her _friend_. She likes him, couldn’t hate him if she tried (and she’s tried), and she doesn’t want to lose him either. They’ve had so many good times together, not just all three of them, but just her and Travis, texting and talking, and he really is a treasured friend.

She’s not certain that friendship will stand up to the trials if she and Wes split. If there’s one thing she knows about Travis, it’s that he’s loyal—and she suspects he’d be loyal to his partner first, over his partner’s ex-wife.

She doesn’t want to lose either of them.

_If this doesn’t work_ , she tells herself, _then we’re no worse off than we were before._

If this doesn’t work, all she’s done is hastened the end that was already looming on the horizon. So really, there’s nothing to lose.

“Okay,” she says, breaking the silence, and pulls her blouse over her head.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and when she looks, Travis is staring right at her, eyes wide, like he couldn’t quite believe this was _actually_ happening until right this second. And Alex isn’t necessarily shy about her body, but she feels herself flushing, warm under his regard.

His hand comes out, reaching to touch, and then he catches himself, hesitates, nervous uncertainty flashing across his face. “Can I?” he asks, and his voice is a hushed whisper.

Alex licks her lips, sees the way his gaze follows the movement, and feels a tingle run down her spine. “Of course.”

Slowly, Travis covers the distance, his hand curling around the curve of her shoulder, running down the length of her arm, and his touch is hot, lingering long after his hand has moved on.

Travis takes a low breath, his hand lingering on her wrist. “I should probably take off my shirt, too,” he says, just enough of a lilt at the end to make it more of a question than a statement.

She nods. “Yeah. That’s, um, that’s a good idea.”

She never would have thought she’d end up here, half-naked in her bedroom with her husband’s partner. But here she is, watching Travis lift his shirt over his head, inch by inch of skin revealed, and her stomach flutters, fingers of heat washing over her skin.

It’s not _nerves_. It’s more like _anticipation_.

Travis’s shirt falls to the floor, and there’s a strangled, half-choked noise from the doorway. Alex is actually a little surprised, when she looks over and sees her husband’s face—the raw, naked _want_ on his face is nothing she would have expected; the anxious hesitation lurking underneath is.

There’s a tipping point here, a feeling like the next second will change _everything_. And maybe it’s arrogant, to feel like the choice rests on her, but Wes isn’t moving and Travis hasn’t yet done anything without prompting, so maybe…maybe it is.

(this is it, she thinks, once last chance…)

Alex makes a small sound in her throat, watching Wes though she aims her words at Travis. “I think Wes is overdressed for the party.”

Travis, a little breathless, says, “I think you’re absolutely right,” and crosses the space between them, close enough to reach out and touch. Alex waits for the jealousy to rise up, for her own envy to put a halt to this more than anything else could.

But there’s no jealousy, no sharp pang spiking through her. Because, she reasons, it’s not just Wes and Travis—it’s all three of them. She’s not losing Wes to Travis, she’s _sharing_ Wes with Travis, and that’s a very different thing.

Across the room, Wes releases the doorway and grabs Travis close, smashing their mouths together, and Alex moves forward to join them.

\---

It’s not like porn. There’s nothing scripted about this, this awkward fumbling as they try to position three bodies where normally there’s two, breathless giggles as limbs are displaced and they bump into one another. It’s— _awkward_ , and that just makes it more _real_.

And then it’s _not_ awkward, it’s sensual and heated and they find their rhythm, moving in tandem, and Alex tips her head back and closes her eyes and sinks into the sensations, lets it wash over her until she can’t tell if she’s flying or drowning. 

She shudders apart in their arms, again and again, and when she clings tight it’s both of them she reaches for.

\---

She sleeps soundly, satiated, something restless and anxious inside of her calmed to stillness.

\---

When she wakes, Wes is still asleep and Travis is gone. She doesn’t know when he left, can’t even begin to guess the time, but the bed is cold where he’d been lying. Alex wishes she could say she’s surprised, but she’s really not. She’s kind of relieved, actually, to not have to deal with the morning after—she’s not sure how prepared she was to face Travis if he stayed. That’s not so much a surprise either.

She _is_ surprised by the mild disappointment that pools in the bottom of her abdomen. She certainly hadn’t expected that.

She heads downstairs and starts the coffeemaker, staring at the machine in a pensive silence, examining the tumultuous churn of emotions inside of her. She hasn’t found any answers by the time Wes stumbles downstairs.

She hands him his coffee with a distracted smile. When he asks blearily, “Travis?” she simply says, “He left sometime this morning,” and wraps her hands around her own mug, unable to decide how she feels about that.

\---

Part of the problem, she muses during the day, thoughts whirling while at work, is that Wes and Travis spend eight hours a day together, constantly in touch, sharing things she’ll, at best, get secondhand knowledge of. That’s part of where the jealousy comes from; there’s a whole chapter of her husband’s life that Travis experiences and she’ll never be a part of. They can tell her stories, but it’s not the same as _being_ there.

But last night, well, last night it wasn’t just Wes and Travis, the dynamic duo. Last night it was the _three_ of them, and she felt like she’d finally edged her way between them, _with_ them.

Maybe that’s where the confliction comes from. _She_ invited Travis into their bed, but rather than being jealous in the morning, like she half expected herself to be, she’s…actually rather content. Because it wasn’t the two of them getting farther and farther away, it was _all three of them_ , and that…

There’s a difference between _losing_ Wes _to_ Travis and _sharing_ Wes _with_ Travis.

Alex tips her head back with a groan. “It’s never easy,” she sighs to the ceiling.

The buzz of her cell phone jolts her out of her thoughts. It’s a text from Travis, and despite herself she can’t help but smile.

It’s a short text, one little question.

_Did I pass?_

Trust Travis to take the term ‘compatibility test’ literally. Then again, it _was_ a test, wasn’t it? A test of sexuality and emotions and pushing boundaries and seeing if they could all fit.

Travis asked _Did I pass?_ but he wasn’t the only one being tested, it was all of them, herself included. 

(The thing is, she long ago resigned herself to sharing Wes with Travis.)

_Did I pass?_ she wonders. And then she thinks about this morning, about the vague sense of disappointment in her chest when she saw the empty space where Travis had been—and she thinks that perhaps she did not _pass_ , but she certainly did not _fail_.

She responds with a simple text, _A++++++!!_ Something Travis won’t possibly be able to misinterpret.

Then she sits back and wishes she could see the look on Wes’s face when Travis shows him that.

\---

“So, are we doing this again?” Wes asks carefully at dinner that night. He doesn’t look up from his pasta primavera.

Alex picks at her food. “I have no objections,” she says. After a minute, she asks, “Do you?”

“No,” he admits after a minute, reluctantly, like it’s a guilty secret.

She nods. “Alright then. That’s that.”

\---

They don’t specifically invite Travis over for sex. But the next Friday, when Travis comes for dinner, there’s a charge in the air, dancing between the three of them, around and around the table. After, as Wes puts the dishes away, Alex lets her hand rest beside Travis’s, close enough to touch, and she swears she can feel sparks.

Wes finally emerges from the kitchen, sweeping his hand toward the stairs and mockingly asking, “Shall we?” And when Travis offers her his arm with a grin, Alex takes it and beams right back. 

They’re barely at the top when Wes descends upon Travis, and Alex watches and feel a pang, of rejection, of hurt, of jealousy, watching these two beautiful men kiss while she stands on the outside. But then they separate, hold their hands out to her, and—

It’s one thing to be on the outside, and an entirely different feeling to be in the thick of things.

\---

It’s not the sex. The sex is _fantastic_ , no doubt, but that’s not it at all. 

It the feeling of being included, of being _part_ of the dynamic duo. For so long she’s watched her husband gravitate toward Travis, and she could feel their own bond fading even as Wes and Travis’s grew stronger.

But now she’s right there, in the middle of it, weaving her own bonds so she’s tied to _both_ of them so fiercely, and that…

That’s not so bad at all.

\---

Travis is gone again in the morning. Alex looks inside herself and realizes she really is disappointed.

She waits for Wes to say something, but he doesn’t bring it up.

\---

It’s funny how quickly things can become _normal_ , just another part of daily life. Travis still comes over all the time, still texts her with inane little comments or long discourses they continue during quiet moments of the day. Wes still complains about Travis when he gets home.

And sometimes after dinner Travis joins them in their bedroom.

Nothing has changed. 

Everything has shifted, but nothing has changed at all, nothing except the sexual tension between them when the three of them are in the same room, and it makes something strange feel completely normal.

Not for the first time, she wishes she could be the fly on the wall at their work, wishes she could see if any of this has changed their professional interactions. Because Wes is reticent at the best of times, and Travis is always willing to talk but sometimes misses the important things, so it’s just so hard to _know_.

This is what she _does_ know: the sex is good, and as far as she can tell, everyone is okay with it. Nothing else has changed—if anything, they’re becoming _more_ comfortable with each other, as though physical intimacy amongst the three of them fosters a more personal intimacy in general.

And every day, the jealousy inside of her grows a little bit smaller.

(After all, there’s a difference being in the middle of things.)

\---

They’re in the yard once more when it hits her. She’s gone inside to get snacks, and when she returns they are yet again rolling in the yard, because seriously, they can’t do anything without getting in an argument or fight, how _do_ they manage at work? and Alex shakes her head and thinks in quick succession: _Wow what idiots, I can’t believe I love them_ , and then, _God, I love them_.

She stops in her tracks, nearly upends the pitcher on the deck, and just stares at them.

_Oh._

Oh, _wow_.

\---

She confirms it for herself at dinner that night, standing in the doorway and watching them. Wes is at the stove and Travis is getting the plates, and they move so seamlessly around each other, sliding through each other’s spaces like they were made for it.

And instead of jealousy, the fear that she’s being replaced in her own home, she just feels a rosy contentment, a satisfaction that this is hers and these two are _hers_ and if she stepped into that room they’d easily make room for her, too.

And when Travis spots her and nudges Wes, and the two of them turn and greet her with identical smiles on their faces, and Alex thinks she could do this forever.

Simple as that. It seems the most obvious thing in the world, no fight at all, and all of a sudden she can’t quite remember why she struggled for so long. 

\---

She’s been in love with Wes for a long time, fell in love with the serious, studious law student who was so much more than he seemed at first glance. And she’s loved Travis for a fair amount of time, too, since not long after that first meeting, when he charmed her with a smile and made her laugh despite how much she wanted to hate him.

She’s still not, she thinks, _in_ love with Travis, not the way she is with Wes. But she _could_ be, and that makes all the difference. 

Travis is it, the missing piece, the link tying Wes to Alex and back again, and binding them both to Travis as well—it’s triangles, the three of them all connected to each other, forming something that can’t be broken.

They could be so _good_ together.

Now she just needs Wes and Travis to realize it too.

\---

Wes comes home in a mood, and since the cause of his moods is so often Travis, Alex jokingly says, “Is it Travis?” 

“Travis is an idiot and I hate him,” Wes snarls, with more venom than he usually exhibits, and stomps upstairs. When he comes back down, he’s in his gardening clothes, which is kind of worrisome because it’s not often Travis can drive Wes out into the yard anymore, especially since they all started sleeping together. 

She pulls him to a stop before he can escape outside. “Wes, what happened with Travis?”

“Who says it has anything to do with Travis?” which is about the dumbest thing Alex has ever heard and just goes to show how pissed he is. Before she can say anything, he snaps, “He’s got a _date_ tonight,” and there’s that venom again.

It’s an odd feeling, to be jealous about the person Travis is going out with but not _of_ Travis himself. What an ironic turn of events she really can’t appreciate right now.

She shoves her own jealousy aside to focus on Wes.

Okay. Wes is upset that Travis is dating. The question is, does he know why? Because she loves her husband, but quick on the emotional uptake is not a label she’d ever give him.

She keeps her voice calm and even when she says, “Doesn’t he go on dates all the time?”

Through gritted teeth, Wes says, “Yes. He does.”

And, because she really does want Wes to realize that he is very likely as jealous as she is, she asks, “Then why are you upset?”

Of course, instead of actually inspecting his feelings, Wes shouts, “I! Am not! Upset!” and slams the door on the way out.

But Alex expected that—denial is Wes’s go-to mode. Maybe a few hours in the yard will give him time for introspection.

\---

When he comes in, he apologizes, then resolutely doesn’t say anything. During dinner, she carefully probes, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”

So much for making him inspect his feelings on the matter.

\---

A few days later, he comes home quiet and pensive, lost inside his own head. After dinner, she sits him down on the couch and asks him what’s wrong.

Slowly, he says, “Travis asked how we were doing today. If this…thing is helping our relationship.”

Alex feels a burst of hope. Does this mean what she thinks it means? “And…?”

He stares at his hands, fidgets, and when he admits, “I hadn’t even thought about _us_ ,” and Alex holds her breath and waits. After a minute, he continues. “I was...it was enough with just…”

She can read between the lines. And she understands.

She feels the same way. It’s just enough like this, with the three of them. 

“Do you remember when you asked if I loved Travis?” he asks, gentle and reluctant. “And how I couldn’t answer?”

“I do,” Alex replies, bracing herself for the answer she’s waiting to hear, the _I love Travis and now I know it._

Wes fidgets again, hands wringing together. “I didn’t know the answer then, but—I do now.” He swallows, and he still can’t look at her. “I do now.”

She can read between the lines here, too.

She takes a slow breath. If she’d heard him say that a month ago, two months, she would have—she doesn’t even know. It wouldn’t have been pretty.

“Do you still love me?” It’s the same question she asked before, but there’s a different context here, a different meaning.

“I do. I love you.” He says it quickly, like speed will make him sound more sincere. “I just…love Travis too.”

This is what she’s been waiting for.

She wraps her hand in his and asks, “Wes. Have you ever heard of polyamory?”

\---

Wes is against it.

But not, it turns out, for the reasons she thought.

He shakes his head. “There’s no way. Absolutely _no way_ he’d be willing to—” He almost chokes on the words. “To _date_ us. Together.” He glances up at her. “Really? You’re okay with this?”

If only he knew just how okay she’s found herself with this. “We found it, Wes,” she says with a soft smile. “The thing that was missing.” She squeezes his arm, still beaming at him. “We need him. And I think he needs us just as much.”

She can see him thinking about it, coming to the same realization she did—that they _work_ , all three of them, together and partnered up, they just _work_ together, and the sex is amazing, so what if they were _together?_ Think of how wonderful _everything else_ would be.

“It’ll never happen.” Wes shakes his head again. “He’ll never say yes. He’ll run, Alex.”

He’s probably right.

But that’s okay. Alex has a plan.

\---

Alex’s plan involves food and sex, so she’s a little surprised when Wes tells her he’s started touching Travis at work, little things like brushing their fingers together or standing too close. Wes like his personal space—touch doesn’t come naturally. She surprised, but she doesn’t say anything—if Wes is willing to go this far to lure Travis in, then she’ll support his effort.

“I asked him to stay the night,” Wes tells her a little while later. He’s nervous, stirring with short, jerky motions. “I promised him pancakes in the morning.”

Alex feels an excited stirring in her breast. “What did he say?”

“Nothing.” The spoon bangs against the side of the pan. “He didn’t say he’d stay.”

“But he didn’t say he wouldn’t, either,” Alex points out, which doesn’t seem to do much to calm Wes’s nerves, but does gain her a small half-smile from her husband.

\---

Travis isn’t in bed when she wakes. Alex tries not to be disappointed. _You knew it was going to be a process_ , she scolds herself, pulling on a robe and heading down the hall. _You knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that._

She pauses at the top of the stairs, then slowly traces her way back down the hall.

The door to the guest room is ajar.

Alex slowly pushes it open. And then all she can do is stand there, studying the man in the bed.

When Travis bolts upright and blinks wildly at her, she has to bite her lip to keep herself from breaking out in a huge grin.

He didn’t stay. But he didn’t leave either.

She heads downstairs and pulls out the supplies for pancakes.

\---

Sex and food, that’s the plan, because that is the quintessential way to most men’s hearts. They’ve had sex covered for months now, so. Pancakes in the morning and packed lunches after Travis stays over. Alex adds sticky notes with little hearts and little desserts that Wes pretends not to notice.

And she sees Travis, when they get together, looking more and more puzzled. He studies them, more often, just watches them with a contemplative look on his face.

“I think it’s working,” she says happily.

“I think it’s just making him confused,” Wes retorts.

That’s the _point_. People who are confused try to figure out the problem. It makes them _think_ about what’s happening around them.

“If he’s confused,” she says wisely, “that means he’s thinking about it. And that means it’s working.”

She wants Travis to realize what she and Wes have realized—just how _good_ the three of them are together. How good they could be with each other.

Which means he needs to be thinking about it. So confusion is a very good sign.

\---

It’s late when the guys stagger home, and she can tell just with one glance that they’ve had a very long day. Travis is in no condition to be driving himself home—when she grabs his arm and guides him up the stairs, he only protests a little, but follows willingly enough.

Wes and Travis get ready for bed on autopilot, and when Travis tries to escape to the guest room, Alex catches his arm and eases him to the master bed instead. Not tonight. Tonight she wants both of her guys right here where she can see them.

These are the days she hates the most, when Wes stays at work late, doesn’t call to let her know, and all she can do is sit at home and think of the worst.

She forgot to anticipate how much worse it’d be when she’s fretting over Travis, too.

So for tonight, she wants them both right here, where she can hang on and never let them go. It won’t be enough to protect them—but it will help ease her mind, and that has to be enough.

\---

Alex has a moment of panic when she wakes up and Travis isn’t in bed, but his bike is still in the drive and the hall bath is locked when she walks by. 

It’s always like this with Wes, too, she reminds herself. This is just a facet of their lives she has to deal with.

She busies herself with making coffee, and by the time Wes joins her, she’s almost feeling herself again.

Then Travis goes zooming down the hall, shouting goodbyes over his shoulder, and Wes mumbles, “I don’t think it’s working,” into his coffee. Alex is forced to admit that he’s probably right. Skipping pancakes is bad enough, but racing out of the house like his ass is on fire… definitely not a good sign.

“We need to up the stakes.” Because food and sex are well and good, but it’s not really proper wooing, which is the entire goal here. _Proper_ wooing involves actual dating, too, going out and dancing and dining and things. (She’s read enough romance novels to know.)

She turns to Wes. “Does Travis like baseball?”

\---

Getting Travis to agree to the baseball game is easy enough—the tickets Alex has are for _really_ good seats. No proper baseball fan would be able to turn them down.

The game is amazing as well. They eat too much crappy food and cheer at the top of their lungs and when Alex starts yelling at the ump Travis leans back in his seat and laughs. It’s completely different than if Wes had come—Wes, who enjoys baseball but only peripherally, would have spent most of the time complaining about the food and the press of people and wouldn’t have sung along with “Take me out to the ballgame.”

It’s not a _bad_ thing. It’s nice to know she can spend time with Travis alone without feeling guilty about leaving Wes out. Also, she’s stoked she’s found someone she can buddy up with on game days, since Wes is just not that much of a fan.

When their team wins, Alex grabs Travis and they jump around like idiots, and she can’t help laughing.

It’s on the ride back to Travis’s trailer that the mood shifts, becoming something tense and pensive. Alex waits to see if Travis will say something, but he doesn’t; Alex finally breaks the silence as they walk across the warehouse.

“You okay? You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

“I…” Travis hesitates, then shakes his head and grins, bright and smooth as polished marble. “I don’t know. Too much excitement, I guess.”

It’s almost believable. Except Alex lives with Wes Mitchell, who is the king of saying one thing and meaning another, even when he himself doesn’t realize it; she has gotten very, very good at reading between the lines, at seeing below the surface.

Whatever is suddenly making Travis quiet is _not_ just too much excitement. She doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not that.

She doesn’t point out the deflection. (Again, she lives with Wes. It rarely works if she _forces_ him to talk about his feelings, and he and Travis are so much more similar than they’d like to admit.) So instead, she smiles and presses, “But it was fun, wasn’t it?”

He looks at her with this small, sad little smile on his face, and all of a sudden the space between them seems too much. She’s struck, suddenly, by how _lonely_ this all feels, a trailer in the middle of a warehouse, and she wants nothing more than to draw him into her arms, to curl around him and tell him he never has to move again. That he can put roots down in their yard and grow with them. Wes is a terrific gardener, after all.

But she doesn’t do any of that. She doesn’t dare. Wes is probably very right, in that going to hard too fast will make Travis pull away, and they’re making progress, a little at a time. She won’t ruin that.

After a minute, he just nods and agrees, “It was so much fun,” and Alex has to work to keep her feet in place, to keep from crossing the distance between them and bundling him up in her arms.

She’s always known Travis has hidden depths, that there’s more to him than the shiny façade he puts on for the world, but she’s never felt it so keenly as this moment.

She makes some comment about having game days at their house, liberally volunteers Wes for snack duty, and Travis gives her this little smile and chuckles and says, “Sounds like a plan,” and—

And she can’t, can’t bear another moment of space between them. Not when he’s making a face like _that_. She crosses the space between them, puts her hand on his arm and says her goodbyes. And when she leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek, it feels—right, like there was nothing else she could possibly have done in this moment. 

Wes is jealous, a little, when she comes home and tells him about the kiss. (He’s not jealous he missed the game, which is ridiculous because it was an _amazing_ game.) But he’s not, he decides, jealous of her—merely jealous that he wasn’t there.

“I guess I’ll have to make sure to join the next one,” he says, and Alex beams at him.

\---

The next one is movie night at their house. Travis arrives right on time with _Terminator_ in one hand and movie butter popcorn in the other. And Alex has always had a weakness for delicious things that really aren’t good for her, so when the movie starts she sits in Travis’s lap and steals his popcorn and laughs with Travis when Wes rolls his eyes at them.

She ends up draped across both of their laps, providing colorful commentary with Travis and laughing when Wes keeps threatening to stop the movie if they don’t stop talking. It’s wonderful, so much fun, even if they do miss half the movie talking over each other.

They never had movie nights like this, never really just _hung out_ like this, even before they started this whole sex thing, and Alex realizes just how much they’ve missed out on, and it’s such a crying shame. 

\---

“I’ve invited Travis to the jazz club,” Wes declares, and Alex beams and says that’s a wonderful idea. It is, and she’s glad he’s offered the invitation—going to the jazz club is something she and Wes have done together since they got out of college, and it’s a promising sign that Wes feels comfortable enough to invite Travis too. 

She wears her red dress, the one with the halter top that always flares out when she twirls and has a tendency to draw wandering eyes. (So long as the eyes she wants are on her, she doesn’t care about anyone else.)

She laughs when Travis pulls her out onto the dance floor, because he has no idea the steps to any of the dances but he looks like he’s enjoying himself anyway. “We’ll have to come back,” she teases, “and I’ll show you have to dance properly,” and Travis just winks and grins and says, “We’ll see,” which isn’t exactly a no.

The music changes, and Wes switches out with Travis. He’s quiet, and there’s this look on his face—a little drawn, pained, like he’s feeling an ache that won’t go away, and his hands, though gentle, press tight against her skin.

“Wes?” she wonders, a dozen questions in that one word, but he doesn’t say anything, just sighs and buries his face in her hair.

When they turn, Alex sees Travis by the bar, watching them with no expression on his face at all, the kind of blandness that says he’s hiding so much behind a wall.

She wishes she was close enough to see what kind of emotion is lurking in his eyes.

\---

Jealousy, she decides, is a type of fear. A fear that what she has will be taken away. For so long she’d been afraid that Travis would take her husband away, she lived with that fear.

She knows how to recognize fear.

Wes is a cautious man. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s one of his best traits—but it’s one of his worst, too, because Wes is cautious to the point where he does nothing, where he is _afraid_ to do anything, so he steps back and simply…doesn’t move.

She knows the signs, can see how Wes is drawing back, into himself, how he smiles and banters like everything is normal, but he never goes any further, has stopped reaching out to Travis unless Travis reaches first. And Alex has lived with her jealousy for so long, she knows how to recognize fear in someone else.

“Are you having second thoughts?” she asks one night, studying his profile in the dark. “We can still stop. It’s not too late.” What she’s hoping for, what she _wants_ for the three of them, it won’t work if one of them doesn’t want it any more. If Wes pulls back before everyone is even on board…

It’s not too late to stop everything. Better to stop now than later, if that’s the case.

Wes sighs into the dark, murmurs, “That’s not it,” and it’s a sound heavy with meaning—and Alex has gotten used to reading between the lines when it comes to her husband.

She props herself up on her elbow, looks down at him. “Are you getting stuck?” Because Wes is a cautious man, and so often that caution can become overwhelming and hold him back.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. She exhales softly, reaches out and curls around him. “It’s going to be alright, Wes,” she declares with more certainty than she feels. She doesn’t know that for certain, still can’t predict how Travis will react in the end—but she has faith that everything will turn out. Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

\---

Jealousy is a type of fear, and a type of greed. Fear that what she has will be taken away—and a greed so consuming, desperate to _keep_ what she has. 

She hasn’t, she realizes, felt jealous of Travis is a while.

Because there is a difference between _losing to_ and _sharing with_ , and she is willing to share Wes with Travis. More than that, she _wants_ to share, not just Wes but _herself_ , and she wants Travis to share himself with the two of them.

Triangles and triangles and triangles, each angle being supported by the others, each person connected to two.

_Sharing_ , and so when she receives her latest order in the mail, she puts on the deep purple babydoll with the flyaway front, and she stands in front of the mirror and takes a picture. She takes two more selfies before she’s satisfied, just the right amount of sexy kitten, and she attaches the image to a group text and sends it to her boys.

She leans back with a satisfied sigh, studying her phone and wishing she could be there to see the looks on their faces.

(They are happy to show her their appreciation for her new lingerie when they get home that night.)

\---

It’s almost familiar, by now, to wake up without Travis there. Not ideal, not how she’d prefer to wake up, but after so many nights, she’s stopped expecting anything else.

She coaxes Wes awake and heads downstairs to get breakfast set out. Thank god for automatic coffeemakers, it’ll already be done by the time Wes comes down, but pancakes are a tradition now, so she—

She pauses on the stairs, head tilted to the side, and sniffs. No, that’s definitely pancake batter cooking, but she left Wes upstairs, which means…

A slow smile crosses her face.

She pauses long enough for Wes to catch up to her, and they enter the kitchen at the same time. Wes, predictably, beelines for the coffeemaker, and she doubts he noticed anything at all. But Alex pauses in the doorway, takes in the sight and lets a rush of affection sweep through her. 

This is how it should be, the three of them, filling the house with laughter and affection and the smell of pancake batter cooking on the stove.

She grabs her mug, pours a cup and takes a slow sip. It’s only a few steps to cross the room, to lean against Travis’s back and watch the pancakes cook on the griddle. “You didn’t have to make breakfast,” she murmurs, tucking her chin on his shoulder. He’s warm, and she could kind of curl up right here and nap like a cat.

He shifts beneath her, sliding his spatula under a pancake. “I wanted to,” he tells her, moving the pancake onto the fresh stack.

She hums idly, wondering if this is a good sign. Is Travis cooking pancakes because he’s feeling more comfortable here? Or is it simply an obligation, a thank you for letting him stay the night so many times?

Instead of asking his motives, she steals one of the pancakes and takes a bite out of the edge. “Well, thank you very much,” she says, and leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Travis’s mouth.

It’s not something she really thinks about—it’s much too early to be having that kind of deep thought about _anything_. She does it because it feels right, it feels _normal_ to drop a little peck on Travis’s mouth, as a thank you, as a good morning, as a show of affection. 

She doesn’t make a big deal of it. She can feel Travis go still beneath her, and the last thing she wants is for Travis to put his guard up. Instead, she smiles, like it really isn’t a big deal at all, and turns to get the plates.

When she turns back, it’s just in time to see Wes cross the room and press his own kiss to Travis’s lips. Not so long ago, just the mere thought would have had her burning with jealousy—now she merely bites back a fond, amused smile and thinks, _Yes_.

Yes. This is good.

\---

Triangles. It’s all about triangles. One and one and one more.

She thinks it’s going well. She looks at Wes and she looks at herself and she thinks _soon_. Very soon.

She miscalculates.

\---

She recognizes the sound of Travis’s voice by now, so when she hears him in the hallway, the familiar timbre of words despite the late hour, she uses her finger to mark her page in her book and looks towards the doorway. She has a greeting ready on her lips when Travis bursts into the living room, hauling Wes by the arm, and before she can get a word out he blurts—

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Alex freezes, mouth hanging open, and the only thing she can think is, _Something has gone very wrong._

Wes, very calmly, says, “This…?” and Alex knows that tone of voice, it’s the voice Wes uses when he’s shutting himself down, putting a shell up so he can’t get hurt. (It never works.) But Alex can’t tear her gaze away from Travis, from the pain on his face.

And then Travis jerks himself away from Wes, steps back, puts distance between them— _distance_ , from _Travis_ , one of the most tactile people she knows, and Alex’s stomach sinks. This is bad enough as it is.

But then Travis starts talking.

“ _This_.” He makes a gesture, waves his hand between the three of them. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Alex _wants_ to say something, she _desperately_ wants to say something to break the tension, to—to _fix_ this, somehow, figure out what went wrong and _fix it_ , but she’s stopped by the look on Travis’s face. Travis, who is always so very good at being fine even when he really isn’t, Travis whose face is the very picture of heartbreak and she can only stare in horror.

Travis continues talking, rushing through the words. “It’s not that I have a problem with _this_ ,” he says, looking between them, “that’s not it at all. It’s just that I sort of…I think I…no, okay, I _know_ I’ve developed f-feelings,” and this is exactly what Alex has been hoping for, but the way Travis’s voice cracks over the words negates any joy she might be feeling. “And it—it’s not fair, to either of you, so we really need to stop.”

To either of you.

Oh. Oh _god_.

Travis looks at them again, and his eyes are shiny with tears. “I really want to help, you guys are my favorites, but I can’t be your fucktoy anymore.” (And here Alex thought her stomach couldn’t sink any lower. She was _so wrong_.) “And—and honestly, you two are doing _great_ , way better than some of the relationships I’ve seen in my life, so, you know, that’s awesome. You’ll be fine, even without… _this_.”

Alex wants to scream, shout, leap to her feet and grab Travis tight and _never let him go_.

But she can’t move a muscle.

Travis shifts, looking at Wes, making a face that’s probably supposed to be a smile but comes out as more of a grimace. “Look,” he says, “I’ll talk to the captain on Monday, we’ll figure something out at work. It’ll be fine.”

Alex can almost hear her husband’s heart shatter.

“ _Travis_ —” Wes says, the words tight like he’s being strangled, and then Travis is retreating, backing towards the door, and _there’s_ that smile she knows, the bright, shiny one that doesn’t go any deeper than the surface. It’s not nearly as effective right now.

“Anyway!” Travis says, too bright, too loud, “That’s all I wanted to say. So have a good night and—and—and a good life. And.” He blinks back _tears_ , and the smile cracks along with his voice. “Bye.”

And then he’s gone, and in the silence of the moment the sound of the closing door is as loud as a gunshot.

\---

_He’ll run_ , Wes had said, when she first brought this idea to him. _The second this becomes anything more than just sex, he’ll be running for the hills._

When he said that, she thought about Travis’s many short-term relationships, which she knew all about because Wes regularly came home and ranted about them, and she thought about how Travis still kept her at arm’s length, even though they were already so close, and how there were times Travis’s eyes would go flat and he’d smile like everything was fine.

She thought about it, and she’d agreed with Wes’s assessment.

_He’ll run._

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Get Wes used to the idea, help him get past his discomfort with such an unconventional relationship and make him see how much they needed Travis, how _good_ Travis would be for them. Then, when Wes was fully on board, they could both bring this to Travis, as a team. _Together_ , they could coax Travis into a relationship, could convince him that he didn’t need to be scared, didn’t need to run.

She’s been so focused on Wes, she forgot to look at Travis.

One and two and _three_.

Triangles and triangles and triangles.

She miscounts, and that’s her mistake.

\---

The front door shuts, breaking her paralysis. Alex tosses her book on the couch and leaps to her feet—maybe if they move, they can catch up to him, bring him back inside and explain everything. She looks at her husband, who hasn’t moved since Travis left.

Alex curses.

Wes is staring at the spot Travis had been standing, face empty, eyes a panicked misery. He looks like he’s floundering, looking for something to grasp—he looks _lost_. She’s seen this look on Wes’s face before, right after Anthony Padua, when she’d watched him breaking apart and nothing she did put him back together.

(She wonders how badly he’ll shatter if he loses Travis.)

No. No, that won’t happen. She won’t lose him. She won’t lose _either_ of them.

Alex crosses the room in two long strides, cups Wes’s face and says sharply, “Wes, look at me.” He does, slowly, and it always pains her, how much of his emotions Wes carries in his eyes. “Wes,” she says, as confidently as she can, not an ounce of doubt because Wes will doubt enough for the both of them. “We’re going to fix this.”

“I told you he’d run,” Wes replies hollowly, and Alex grits her teeth. She has to get him moving—that’s the first thing, when he gets stuck, to get him out of his own head because he thinks and he thinks and he thinks himself right into a hole.

“Not like this,” she tells him, “he’s running for the wrong reasons. We were too subtle.” Their actions weren’t enough, and Alex lost focus, forgot to look at Travis to see that the plan was faltering.

But Travis has developed feelings too, so there’s a chance.

“So we’ll go to him,” she continues, “and we’ll tell him the truth. We’ll _fix_ this.”

There’s the tiniest spark of hope in Wes’s eyes. It’s enough.

\---

Alex has never considered herself a selfish person. She gives to charity, she cries when she sees tragedies on the news, she does pro bono work for her firm.

But she can’t help wondering, as they drive to Travis’s warehouse, if there’s a tiny, selfish part of her, deep inside. If that maybe the reason she didn’t focus on Travis as much as on Wes was because she still has one small, niggling little doubt that says _What if he steals Wes away?_

Jealousy is a sort of fear, a sort of greed, one that says _mine, mine, you can’t have it_ —and it may, in the end, be the most selfish emotion of all.

That’s going to change.

\---

The warehouse is empty, the trailer locked. Wherever Travis went after he left their home, it wasn’t back here. Alex takes a breath and sinks onto the trailer steps. She wants to go out searching for him, but Los Angeles is a massive metropolis—they would never find him.

Eventually, Travis will return here. He has to—his entire life is in this trailer.

And when he returns, they’ll be waiting for him.

\---

It’s hours before the rumble of Travis’s motorcycle fills the air. Alex lifts her head from her knees, where she’d dropped it to avoid watching Wes’s endless, agitated pacing (it was only making her more upset, which certainly wasn’t helping) and watches Travis roll his bike into the warehouse. 

Travis doesn’t notice them. If he did, she’s pretty certain he would turn his bike right around and vanish before they could even move. But doesn’t notice Alex until he turns off the engine and climbs off the bike, giving Wes the chance to get behind him and grab his arm before Travis can bolt.

She’s already seated by the time Wes leads Travis to the patio table—there’s only two chairs, so by unspoken agreement Alex sits in the other chair and Wes hovers behind Travis, blocking his escape. 

The silence is thick, heavy with anger and tension and hurt feelings. Travis is glaring at the table, and Wes is looking a little lost again, so Alex takes a breath and dives right in.

“We’re sorry, Travis.”

Travis’s head snaps up, angry, hurt shock written all over his face, and Alex just wants to reach out, wrap her hand around his and hold on tight. She catches herself before her hand completes the motion, curling her fingers until her nails dig into her palms. “We’re sorry,” she says again, and it doesn’t seem like nearly enough.

Travis stares blankly at her, throat working, and finally demands, “For _what?”_

Oh god, this has all gone so badly.

She tries to smile, tries to put all three of them at ease. She’s not sure it works—she certainly doesn’t feel any better. “For misleading you. For not telling you the truth.” _I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry._

“What truth?” Travis snaps, tensing all over. “I was sleeping with you to help your marriage.”

Alex hesitates. “Yes. That’s…” She’s not certain exactly how much of the beginning of this she wants to impart. Travis is tense enough as it is. Besides, those are Wes’s feelings to explain. She glances uncertainly up at her husband.

Wes smoothly jumps in. “It started that way,” and Travis twists around to stare at him. Alex watches the look that flies between them before Wes drops his gaze, and she holds her breath.

Slowly, Travis turns back to her. “Started that way…” he says expectantly, hesitant.

She can’t help it. Her hand reaches out, almost of its own accord, wrapping around Travis’s arm. If she could somehow wipe the trepidation right off his face… 

“It started that way,” she echoes, because for her, at least, that’s the truth. “You were never a fucktoy, Travis,” she adds, the word sounding dirty on her tongue. That he thought that, for even an instant… This has all gone pear-shaped, and she’s afraid it’s all her fault. “You brought us something we’d been missing in our marriage. And…you’re not the only one who developed feelings.”

Travis doesn’t say a word. He sits there, staring at her, then twists and stares at Wes.

“Bullshit,” Travis hisses, low and pained, shaking off Alex’s hand and pushing away from the table.

The agony in his voice makes her heart clench, and Alex is halfway out of her seat when Wes’s hands drop onto his partner’s shoulders and he murmurs, “Really not,” and if Alex didn’t know better she’d almost think Wes was calm about this.

But this is what Wes does—he shuts down so no one can see how much he’s hurting inside. And if Wes is feeling anything like what Alex is feeling right now, then there’s no way in _hell_ he’s as calm about this as he sounds.

Travis hesitates, looking between the both of them, and his voice cracks when he asks, “Really?”

God, he sounds so _vulnerable_.

Alex takes his hand, offering as much comfort and reassurance as she can, as much good it’ll do when he’s still so hurt. “Really, Travis.”

Travis swallows, hope and doubt warring on his face. “You never…said anything.”

And Alex may not have been looking close enough, may have lost her focus, but the truth is… “We thought we were.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Travis snaps again, but his voice wobbles and Alex feels like she’s just been stabbed.

Wes takes a breath, says, “Come on, Travis, if we’d told you, you would have run for the hills as fast as you could.” (Alex can’t help wondering how much effort it’s taking for Wes to sound so _normal_.) “We had to…to…”

“To ease you into it,” Alex offers when Wes falters. “To _show_ you, rather than tell you. To get you used to the idea before we just dumped it on you.”

That was the plan, anyway. And look at how well _that_ worked out.

“Get used to _what?”_ Travis demands.

Together, Alex and Wes say, “To being in a relationship.”

It takes a minute for their meaning to sink it, but Alex can see the realization cross Travis’s face. He sits upright, jabs an accusing finger at her. “Oh my god! You were dating me! You two were sneak dating me!”

“Yes,” Wes says, unwilling or unable to elaborate, so Alex takes Travis’s hand once more and says, “We were trying to show you how we felt, Travis,” because if he can at least understand their _reasons_ …

Travis stares at her, eyes going a little wild, and his breathing becomes short and sharp. Wes notices something, because he says, “Travis?” and moves around the chair, crouching beside Travis. Easily, _casually_ , Wes wraps his hands around Travis’s neck and cheek, and Alex thinks about how close they’ve become, because Wes just doesn’t _touch_ people like that.

And then Wes says, “Breathe, Travis, you’re okay, you’re safe, you need to breathe,” and Alex abruptly realizes what’s happening here. She’s never seen anyone have a panic attack outside of TV, but she’s pretty sure it looks something like this.

“I can’t,” Travis gasps, tears running down his cheeks, and god, he’s shaking so hard it’s traveling right up Alex’s arm. “I can’t, I _can’t_ —”

Alex feels completely helpless. She’s never had to do this, never had to comfort someone in the midst of a breakdown—Wes, at least, has had training, one or more seminars on dealing with hysterical witnesses. All she can do is sit there, holding Travis’s hand, and Travis clutches her so tightly she’s half afraid he’s going to break something.

She doesn’t let go.

“I can’t,” Travis sobs, curling in on himself, “I’m sorry but I _can’t_ —” and Alex takes her cue from Wes, moving to Travis’s side and murmuring reassurances that he’s safe, he’s okay, they’ve got him.

She doesn’t let go of his hand for a second.

\---

She’s always known Travis had hidden depths, vulnerabilities he rarely let surface for more than a second. She knows the story of his past—Travis has never been shy about his history, never let it get him down.

At least, he never _seemed_ to let it get him down. But it’s not that simple. She never thought about what that might be like, moving from house to house for eighteen years, never having a stable home, a permanent family. Never thought of the kind of trauma that might inflict on a person.

She never thought about it, so she callously added to it, and this is the consequence of her actions.

\---

It’s a small eternity before Travis’s attack settles, before he stops shaking against her shoulder, stops making those ragged, heaving sobs. Alex doesn’t move, not an inch, curled up tight against Travis’s side, hoping that somehow her presence and the warmth of her body will comfort him. He hasn’t stopped clutching her hand, grip so tight Alex is certain her fingers will be nothing but pins and needles when he lets go, but she hardly even notices the discomfort.

Wes pauses his litany of murmured reassurances, sitting just as close as Alex is, and they wait.

The first word out of Travis’s mouth is a quiet, shamed, “Sorry.”

There’s that stabbing feeling again, like someone jammed a carving knife into her stomach. Travis has done wrong here. _Nothing_.

She leans across the few inches separating them, presses a soft kiss to his temple and whispers, _“Don’t be.”_

He’s apologizing when none of this is his fault, and she wants nothing more than to rewind time and slap herself the moment she came up with this so-called brilliant plan.

“We’re not asking for anything you don’t want to give,” she says softly, pressing more gentle kisses to his cheeks, his hair, his ears, anywhere she can reach. This all started because she thought she knew better, because she didn’t include Travis in the plan.

_Triangles_ , three sides supporting one another. But they didn’t support Travis, and they almost lost him. Not again.

This time _Travis_ gets to call the shots.

As though Wes can read her mind—or like he’s been having the same thoughts she has—Wes says, “We’re simply leaving the door open. If you want to join us, we’ll be waiting.” Leaning in, Wes presses his lips to Travis’s jaw, whispering against his skin, “We’re not going anywhere, Trav.”

Considering how many times Travis has been left behind by people he cares about, Alex can only hope Travis believes them.

\---

Before this all started, Alex never would have thought it was possible to be in love with more than one person at a time. Oh, she could _love_ more than one person—she loved her family, and her friends, in different ways, of course, but she still loved them. But being _in_ love, oh, that was a different sort of feeling entirely. It was such a _big_ feeling she didn’t know how anybody’s heart could sustain that kind of emotion for more than one person at a time.

Now, sitting on a cold warehouse floor, she feels like her heart is expanding exponentially, an all-encompassing field of love, and there’s no doubt she is absolutely in love with Travis, just as much as she is with Wes.

And to think they could have lost this all.

\---

(The thing is, there’s probably always going to be that small, tiny part of herself that’s afraid Travis and Wes will grow closer and closer and leave her behind. They spend all day together, mean so much to each other, they share _so much_ that she can’t touch, and it leaves her feeling left out. Because what if one day…

But those fears are so small compared to this enormous emotion inside of her, so she finally stops listening to the fear and lets this love fill her instead.)

\---

Wes is the first to move, pulling Travis to his feet. “We can go as slow as you want,” he says, pulling Travis’s keys out and tossing them to Alex.

Alex unlocks the trailer door, holding it open. “Or we can go as fast as you want. We’re not pushing for anything. You call the shots.” She’s not going to keep him out of the loop this time, not going to make any decisions _Travis_ doesn’t want. Not only is it not fair, but she doesn’t want to incite him into another panic attack or anything.

Travis thinks about it, shuffling forward as Wes leads him into the trailer. “We can still have sex, though, right?” he asks, and Alex bites back a smile. “Because I really liked the sex.”

“And anything else as well,” Alex assures him, because if sex is what he wants than they can definitely manage that, but there’s so much more on the table here.

“Okay,” Travis says slowly, rubbing tears off his cheeks. “But definitely the sex, right?”

Wes chuffs, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yes, Travis, we can still have the sex.”

“Oh. Good.” And then Travis seems to realize that Alex has been leading the way to the bedroom, and his eyes widen. “Woah, hey, I didn’t mean _now_ ,” he stammers, backpedaling into Wes, who is right there murmuring soothing little noises, and Alex moves forward, taking Travis’s hands in her own and whispering her own reassurances.

This isn’t about sex, not tonight. Tonight this is about just putting Travis to bed, letting him sleep and rest and recover, and it’s about them not leaving him.

She doesn’t plan on them leaving him ever again.

Alex reaches out, gently pushing Travis’s jacket off his shoulders. Wes moves up behind him, easing the jacket down his arms, leaning in to press a small, chaste kiss to the back of Travis’s neck. And oh, that’s a good idea—they’ve exhausted their words for the night, anything more would just be repetition, but Travis is a tactile person, he thrives on touch—maybe this will convey their feelings in a way mere words can’t.

Alex follows suit, pressing a tiny kiss to the underside of Travis’s jaw, and then—for every inch of skin they uncover, one of them—sometimes both—leans in and kisses him, peppering his skin with affection, like maybe they can impart their sincerity through touch rather than their words.

Travis just stands there, watching her—watching them both—with this puzzled expression, like he can’t quite understand what’s happening. That’s alright. There will be time enough to show him in the future.

This isn’t about sex, so they don’t strip him down to nothing. Travis is in his boxers, and Alex and Wes follow suit, until they’re all standing there in their underwear. Travis is still looking a little confused, but he allows them to lead him to bed, lets them ease him under the covers and tuck themselves in beside him.

The last time Travis was in the middle like this, he’d been exhausted, too weary to protest. This time, he’s _letting_ them put him in the middle, in a place where escape isn’t as easy to come by, and Alex’s heart swells. 

She’s left a few inches of space between them—she doesn’t want to push, doesn’t want to take what Travis isn’t willing to give. She’s serious about letting Travis call the shots.

Still, she’s startled when Travis reaches out, wraps his arm around her and hauls her close, and she makes a little surprised squeak. Wes grumbles on Travis’s other side, and Alex is pretty sure Travis just did the same to him. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, not even bothering to hide her smile.

\---

This. This is how it should be. 

It’s all about triangles. One and two and three, each side supporting the other two and being supported in turn. They didn’t support Travis properly—she’s determined not to make that mistake again.

Because this is good. The three of them. 

Together.

\---

When she opens her eyes, Alex sees Travis, a smooth expanse of brown skin before her, and she’s smiling before she’s fully awake.

She didn’t realize how worried she was that Travis would sneak out in the middle of the night, that she would wake up and he wouldn’t be there, until something inside of her relaxes at the sight of him.

It won’t be that easy, one night solving all of their problems, she knows that. They all have their issues, herself included. But she can see their future, everything they _could_ have if the three of them are willing to work for it.

It’s a long road, but this is a damn good start.


End file.
